On Forming Diplomatic Relations with the 11th Div
by peroxidepest17
Summary: Byakuya and Kenpachi get as civil as they know how.
1. On Forming Diplomatic Relations

**Title:** On Forming Diplomatic Relations with the Eleventh Division  
**Universe:** Bleach  
**Theme/Topic:** N/A  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Character/Pairing/s:** Kenpachi, Byakuya (Ikkaku, Yumichika, and Yachiru too of course)  
**Warnings/Spoilers:** Stupid and OOC and pointlessness.  
**Word Count:** 1,137**  
Summary:** Byakuya and Kenpachi get as civil as they know how.**  
Dedication:** Happy birthday, cheloya! Sorry I am so lame and out of practice, but maybe this will I don't know, reopen doors for me or something. Also, is it even still the 26th in Australia? TIMEZONE FAIL.  
**A/N:** Holy god I don't know what I'm doing anymore.  
**Disclaimer:** No harm is meant by this!

Zaraki's forehead is bleeding from a wide gash cut into the flesh just above his eyebrow, blood from the wound trickling down in a dark red stream over the eleventh division captain's single exposed eye and running along his cheek and lip and chin before dripping off of the edge of his jaw to stain the white shoulder of his captain's coat crimson. Byakuya sees it when Kenpachi's tongue darts out to taste the fresh blood as it slides over his lip. It makes him grin as though the flavor pleases him.

Byakuya makes a face when he witnesses the act; how uncouth. How like Zaraki.

In addition to the aforementioned forehead wound, Byakuya assesses that Zaraki's left arm is also useless now, dangling at his side and broken from the impact of smashing through Byakuya's last powerful kidou binding spell. There are also a million glistening slashes all along the big captain's chest and shoulders, from where shards of Senbonzakura had managed to cut through Zaraki's protective aura of reiatsu to bite the flesh below. During their last clash, Byakuya also remembers making Zaraki vomit blood when he hit him, which suggests internal hemorrhaging of some sort as well.

And yet, despite that laundry list of injuries, Zaraki stands, sturdy as ever, grinning stupidly at Byakuya and almost begging for more.

Byakuya takes a shaky breath and notes his own injuries with care in the meantime—both the visible and invisible ones. There are at least three broken ribs to deal with on one side of his body, as well as the charred edges of his scarf from where the cloth had somehow melted into the skin around his neck, probably due to the excessive heat raised from one of their earlier exchanges. A shallow cut extending from the top of one shoulder down across his chest to the jut of his hipbone continues to bleed slowly despite the fact that contact with Zaraki's overpowering reiatsu seems to have cauterized most of it already.

He can also taste blood in the inside of his mouth from where he's cut his cheek open against his back teeth, and the shaky muscles in his arms can barely grip the hilt of his zanpakutou after the tremendous weight behind each and every one of Zaraki's unwieldy blows had cut his stamina in half.

Such is, he supposes, the price of trying to deal with the eleventh division on the eleventh division's terms.

This kind of thing is probably the closest thing to diplomacy Zaraki and his brethren will ever allow in their halls, and for now, it is all Byakuya has to work with if the court ever wants Zaraki to listen to any of their requests at all.

In the meantime, the sixth division captain struggles to stay standing.

"Aw, don't tell me you're about ready to give, Kuchiki-hime," Zaraki taunts from across the courtyard, as he continues to bleed all over the floor without really noticing. "There's still six points left that you wanted to discuss, ain't there?"

"Seven, taichou," Ayasegawa goseki chimes in from the comfortable shade of the porch, helpful as ever as he holds Byakuya's annotated list in elegant fingers while Yachiru bounces impatiently in his lap. Ikkaku lounges next to the pair, drinking from a gourd of sake and looking highly interested in the events as each one unfolds in front of him. What Byakuya presumes is a hand-made spinner sits at his side.

Zaraki seems buoyed by the news that there is more left to discuss than he'd originally anticipated. "Seven left, hime. Or are you just gonna give 'em to me on account of your delicate sensibilities?"

Byakuya sniffs and stands up straighter, refusing to bow to Zaraki's petty taunts as he holds Senbonzakura in an offensive position. "I am ready," he answers imperiously, and begins to gather his reiatsu for the next round.

"Good to hear," Kenpachi snorts, amused by Kuchiki's stuck up attitude as he turns back to the patio. "Yumichika! Hurry the hell up."

"Of course, taichou," Yumichika responds, looking bored as he moves to read from the list again. "Point number seventeen on Kuchiki-taichou's list of motions. Kusajishi-fukutaichou is not to be allowed out of the barracks unaccompanied any time after dark."

A beat.

Zaraki scoffs when he hears. "What, really?"

Byakuya moves to clarify, because it definitely isn't an issue of child-safety. "To prevent as much property damage as possible," he explains haughtily. "Especially given last month's destroyed city block incident."

Zaraki laughs. "Oh, you mean the giant dominos incident."

Yumichika eyes them both. "Your respective responses to the motion then, gentlemen?"

"Yea," Byakuya replies coolly.

"Nay," Zaraki counters instantly, probably more in anticipation of what's to come rather than from any actual opinion about the issue at hand.

"Well then, the issue will—as all the others before it have— be resolved by the terms agreed upon by both parties in a prior meeting," the fifth chair announces in an officious manner, before turning to Ikkaku expectantly.

Ikkaku grins, grabs the spinner, and flicks it.

When the arrow slows to a stop, it lands pointing on "Right Shoulder."

Ikkaku whoops. "Alright, first guy who draws blood on the opponent's right shoulder gets the motion."

Zaraki licks the blade of his sword in anticipation. "I ain't gonna let you have this one, Kuchiki."

Byakuya dissolves his zanpakutou into a million beautiful petals and allows a small, derisive smile in response. "I've already won half of the arguments, Zaraki-taichou."

"Still lost half of 'em too."

"Ready…set…go!!" Yachiru cheers a moment later, and gives the two captains the go-ahead to hurtle towards each other in a brilliant clash of yellow and pink and ground-shaking explosions.

Seconds after the thunderous wave of energy from their initial collision blows through the entire division headquarters and temporarily paralyzes all of the lesser seats in the vicinity, both captains get knocked backwards into opposite walls from the force of their impact against one another.

And as Byakuya hears the bones in his wrist snap in multiple places when he hits the barrier, he grunts to himself and supposes that this is simply what happens when you choose to deal with the eleventh division on the eleventh division's terms.

It is—for lack of better term— the heavy price of diplomatic relations with men like Zaraki Kenpachi.

When Byakuya hears Zaraki's answering reaction of "God fucking dammit!" after the larger captain checks his bleeding right shoulder a few seconds later, Byakuya smiles a little bit and congratulates himself on slowly getting better and better at making those uncouth eleventh division terms work for_ him_ in return.

On a completely unrelated side note, he's starting to think that getting to punch Zaraki in the face every now and again might be kind of fun too.

**END**


	2. Dealing with Loss poorly

**Title:** Dealing with Loss (Poorly)  
**Universe: **Bleach  
**Theme/Topic: **A concerning decrease in productivity  
**Rating:** PG-13 for mentions of violence  
**Character/Pairing/s:** Kenpachi, Byakuya (appearances by Renji and Yumichika)  
**Warnings/Spoilers:** Stupid and OOC and pointlessness.  
**Word Count:** 1,360  
**Su****mmary:** With reference to "On Forming Diplomatic Relations with the Eleventh Division"- Byakuya pays dearly.  
**Dedication:** cheloya's holiday request! Also, special thanks to kotszok for her piece of GOLDEN INSPIRATION.  
**A/N:** Holy god I still don't know what I'm doing. BUT HEY, FIRST HOLIDAY REQUEST DONE! UM…SIX TO GO? *fail*  
**Disclaimer:** No harm is meant by this!

* * *

Kuchiki Byakuya affects an officious air and looks down at this week's mountain of paperwork. It is due in five hours.

Said paperwork does not seem impressed with his officious manner, as it does not shrink back upon facing his wrath or deign to do itself for fear of possible reprisal.

A moment later, he catches himself on the edge of a sigh, and deeply disturbed by the mere concept of letting such a distasteful act be borne from within himself, Byakuya forcibly drags it back into his chest and swallows it whole.

He has work to do.

He reaches forward and picks up the first report.

When he does, his sleeve slides backwards on his wrist just a little, causing the material of his uniform to brush against the newly formed scab there. It itches.

His brow furrows; he may or may not glare.

The scab, unmoved by his hostility—much like the paperwork— continues to bother him, rather unapologetically.

Kuchiki Byakuya bites the inside of his cheek and continues to draw the report forward despite the discomfort, ignoring the scab because it is—to him—as comparatively distasteful as the sigh had been. One of his station does not _itch_.

That decided, he grabs his pen, sits up a little straighter in his chair and…

…cringes when the muscles in his back complain.

Vocally.

He surmises that the tumble he took yesterday afternoon in this week's mandatory run-in with Zaraki has something to do with it; his nose automatically wrinkles in annoyance when he thinks about the things he has been reduced to as Yamamoto-soutaichou's current hand-picked liaison to the eleventh division.

The sixth division captain stops that line of thought when he realizes that he has let himself get distracted again; to combat the situation he sits up as straight as physically possible in his chair and tells himself that his back is _not_ screaming a string or rather malicious obscenities him.

He has reports to do. Today is report day. He will get his reports done and in on time at all costs.

Which means he will ignore the itchy scabs on his wrist (and the ones on his chest and his elbows and his knees); he will pay no mind to the ache in his back either, or the sprain in his ankle, or the cut on his lip that throbs every now and again, whenever he frowns (which is more often than not). Report day means that he will make do with the broken fingers on his right hand, the bandages wound tight around his ribs, and the burns on his neck and shoulders. Most important of all, he will pay no mind to the _migraine_ he gets, whenever he grits his teeth and thinks that yesterday, if he had been just one step quicker and one swing faster, he would have won _sobriety screenings_ for eleventh division members who are called to action on inter-group _covert operations _missions.

But to stay on topic, all of that means nothing right now.

Because today is report day. He will think of nothing but reports. Because a captain turning in his reports late is as distasteful to him as a Kuchiki scratching himself in a semi-public place or _sighing_ in the face of important work to be done.

That decided, he positions his pen over the report (with his good hand), and takes a deep breath. No more procrastinating. No more hesitation because of pain, and definitely, definitely no more planning for petty (absolute) vengeance come six days from today.

Reports. He will not be _late_.

He determinedly sets the tip of his pen to the paper.

At which time Renji decides to barge into the room suddenly, slamming the door behind him and huffing in frustration as he unknowingly shatters the quiet Zen of the office's atmosphere, the one that his captain had been so painstakingly working up over the past few hours.

"Taichou!" the redhead shouts obliviously, bustling by with a huge stack of papers in hand, "these got sent back from last week; apparently the records department says you used the wrong forms and if you want the requests submitted in time for the month's review you gotta get 'em in by this afternoon or go drop by the office and pick up an official extension request and fill _that_ out by this afternoon instead since I can't do it for you since it's official captain's stuff and stuff. Oh, and here's Yamamoto-soutaichou's next list of motions for Zaraki-taichou and…"

Renji suddenly falls over.

Or rather, is knocked over, as Byakuya realizes belatedly that it was probably because of his sudden and unexpected surge in _angry_ reiatsu.

In the meantime, the redhead blinks. From the floor. Where all the previously stacked and ordered files are now all over the floor as well, clearly no longer stacked or in order. "T-taichou? Are you alright?" Renji asks, very carefully.

Byakuya's headache is back.

A beat later, the sixth division captain wordlessly drops his pen onto the report he had been about to start (where there is now a big, unsightly black circle starting to spread out from the center) and stands abruptly. As he does, he manages to ignore the burning, twitching pain in his body. In lieu of his burning, twitching annoyance.

He leaves the room.

Renji stares after him.

* * *

Fifteen minutes and five division headquarters later, Kuchiki Byakuya storms into the eleventh division offices seething pink reiatsu. Some of the eleventh division members in his way find it oddly pretty, until it starts to unintentionally open up shallow cuts along their arms and faces.

Then they realize that even though it is pretty, it is in reality, something a lot like Zaraki-taichou in nature. They scramble for cover.

Meanwhile, in his office, Zaraki stretches languidly in his chair and sips beer as Yumichika changes the bandages on his wounds from yesterday for him and explains that he's done all of his captain's paperwork for this week already and wasn't it nice of taichou to let him approve his own raise like that?

"More beer," is all Zaraki has to say on the matter, and Yumichika smiles beatifically as he obliges him.

Just as he is cracking open his second can, Kuchiki Byakuya makes it to the office. By forcibly blowing the doors wide open.

Zaraki blinks. Looks at the date. "You already back for mo…" he starts, but gets cut off because Byakuya is in no mood to hear him talk.

"_You_," the sixth division captain starts accusatorily, feeling a dark heat creeping up under his scarf whenever he looks at Kenpachi's slack posture and stupid, indifferent face (and more importantly, his desk that is clean of _all_ paperwork), "are making me _late_."

Ayasegawa turns to look at Zaraki when he hears the accusation, clearly scandalized at this new (and exciting) development in his taichou's life.

Zaraki stares.

A moment.

And then, "I did not," he responds, "get you pregnant." Pause. Grin. "Did you ask Abarai?"

Without knowing he is doing it, Kuchiki Byakuya makes a completely undignified, slightly high-pitched sound of annoyance in the back of his throat. Far worse than any sigh could ever be.

He is promptly horrified at himself. And the fact that Zaraki Kenpachi may actually be _laughing_ at him from where he has his feet up on his desk and is drinking beer makes it _that much_ worse, because clearly the larger captain does not have any reports due in by five o'clock today like he does.

Byakuya glowers; he wordlessly turns around and storms off towards the records department.

In search of extension forms.

The entire way there, he tells himself that next week, he will be _one step faster _and_ one swing quicker_, and that he will feel just a little bit better about the whole thing after that, when _he_ is the one who gets to break that stupid, gloating smile off of Zaraki Kenpachi's stupid, gloating face.

That day is the first time in his entire career that Kuchiki Byakuya turns in a late report.

It is, however, not the _last_ time either.

**END**


End file.
